


Dearest Darling Edward

by AnEquivalentExchange



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gen, Letters, also, edwin - Freeform, some slight edwin at the end but mostly just a gen fic, that's about it this is p short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-12 21:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnEquivalentExchange/pseuds/AnEquivalentExchange
Summary: The letters became their tradition. Every year, another birthday, another letter.





	1. Six

**Author's Note:**

> New fic I've had rolling around in my head for a while! I'm just using it as an opportunity to kinda delve into how ed's character and relationship with his mom may develop as he grows older. This is gonna be fairly short, 6 chapters total, and it's already completed so I'll be updating once or twice a day for the next few days! Enjoy!

Edward hadn’t cried since his mother’s funeral. That pivotal day when the sun had had the audacity to shine, when nearly all of Resembool’s underwhelming population had gathered to say their final goodbyes to one of their own, and Edward had stood next to his little brother, both dressed in their Sunday’s best and openly sobbing. Pinako, similarly dressed in formal black and a string of pearls, had been tasked with trying to quiet the young, inconsolable Elrics with firm, comforting pats and an arsenal of handkerchiefs. Ed wouldn’t have it though; for the first time since he could remember, he wept openly and unashamedly, not even bothering to try to be strong for Al, who was too swallowed up by his own grief and tears to notice.

The audacious sun had set, lighting the sky ablaze in hues of orange and red, and as day turned to twilight, all of Resembool’s residents had returned to their dwellings, emptied of their words of regret, and ready to go on with their lives as though Trisha Elric’s death wasn’t the earth-shattering catastrophe that it was to her orphaned sons. By the time the rest of the funeral party had gone, including the reluctant Rockbells, who had parted with a soft word of warm dinner waiting, Ed stood, dry eyed and numb at his mother’s fresh grave. Al sat next to him, head buried into boyishly scraped and knobby knees, still crying softly. Ed had no tears left to cry, and a determination had taken over that left no room for regret or processing grief. Alchemic equations and theories had replaced the what-if’s in his head, as he desperately tried to comb through his knowledge of human transmutation, homunculi, medical alchemy, anything that could bring their mother back from the dead.

 It had been well over half a year since then, and after a bit of persuasion, Ed had recruited Al into the tedious task of learning how to bring their mother back to them.

Ed hadn’t cried a single tear since standing before that grave which now stood, waiting, under a scattering of flurries in the early February air.

Days, weeks, milestones, and holidays had passed, but none of it felt the same without their mother. That was why Edward had dreaded the coming of his birthday, and had refused to acknowledge it in celebration. Winry, however, had different plans, and had adamantly demanded he and Al at least come over for dinner and cake. Ed had agreed, mostly to avoid an argument and unwanted questions that would dredge up all those feelings he worked so hard to push aside.

They day came with little fanfare besides Al wishing his brother a happy birthday during breakfast before they went to their father’s study to scour through his vast library of alchemy tomes.

“Brother, the post came!” Al called. Ed hadn’t even noticed his brother had left the room, until he reentered with an envelope in his hand. He hadn’t even noticed how long he had been sitting hunched over a book until Al’s distraction caused him to feel the crick in his neck. Besides, the mailman didn’t make his deliveries before noon. “It’s for you!” Al continued. “There’s no address or anything, isn’t that weird?”

Ed took the letter from his brother’s outstretched hand and turned it over. Sure enough, the only thing written in a semi-familiar script was his name and the date. “Huh,” Ed grunted, confused.

Al settled on his knees next to his brother, eagerly waiting for the mysterious letter to be opened. “Maybe it’s from Granny or Winry?” he suggested.

“I don’t think it’s either of their handwriting,” Ed countered. “Besides, we’re going to be seeing them in a few hours anyway.”

“Maybe someone else in town?” Being the tiny country town that Resembool was, everyone knew everyone’s business, it would be common knowledge that today was Edward’s birthday.

“Maybe,” Ed allowed.

Without further ado, he tore the seal open with all the carefulness of a six year old and pulled the letter out. When he unfolded the single piece of parchment, to find a neatly written letter, Ed almost dropped it in his shock.

Al must have sensed the change in his brother’s mood. He leaned closer trying to get a look at the words written. “What is it, Brother? Who’s it from?”

“I…” Ed swallowed, staring at the letter. Without another word, he stood and left Al in the study. This was something he needed to do alone.

Five minutes later found him on the swing tied to the tree beside their house. His feet idly pushed him back and forth as his shaky hands held an impossible letter.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

The letter began, the elegant script so painfully familiar now, and Ed felt his stomach clench in a way it hadn’t in months.

_Happy birthday, my little man. I’m sorry that I cannot be with you there to celebrate. I hope even if this letter may cause you sadness, that this is a day of happiness for you, and you spend it knowing you are loved. I hope the past year has been kind to you, sweetheart, and if your father has not yet returned home, then I am at peace knowing the Rockbells are taking good care of you and your brother and teaching you both the things I should be there to tell you._

_I hope you still smile brightly, you always had the biggest smile, Edward, and I hope it still shines on the world, even when the skies are gray and life doesn’t seem so fair. I promise, sweetheart, it may not be fair, but it is all worth it. I know you may be too young still to understand, but I want you to be happy, even if the past few months have been tough. I never wanted to leave you and your brother, and I am so sorry to have to put you both through that. I always imagined the days we would spend together as you both grew older, checking your heights on the kitchen wall, celebrating holidays and birthday together with more than a simple letter, I wanted to watch where life would take you two and watch how our lives would grow together here in our little sleepy town. And even when I am not there to do these things with you, Edward, I want you to still do them. I want you to find happiness in the small things, and take comfort in those around you. Resembool is our home, and it always will be, no matter what changes or what life puts us through._

_I’m sure this isn’t what you expected on your birthday, so after you read this, I want you to go have fun, sweetheart. Remember to still be happy and laugh. Remember that it’s okay to still be sad or angry at times. You have had to deal with something hard at such a young age, but I know you will learn to live with it. Ed, you will have such a wonderful life, I know you will, you are so brilliant and talented and strong-willed, you will accomplish anything you set your mind to._

_So please, I know you are still young, but do not sit and let life pass you by because you are upset. You have a great life ahead of you, sweetheart, as long as you take the chances you are offered._

_Take good care of your brother, Edward, as I know you always have. And remember that I love you even though I am not with you._

_Love forever and always,_

_Mom_

He read the last word once, twice, overall, almost disbelieving. Suddenly, acutely, he missed his mom more than words could convey, more than a six year old could understand. He choked on a sob, unconsciously pulling the paper closer to his chest as if he could feel his mother’s embrace through her words.

He peered around, suddenly self-conscious, but Al thankfully seemed to have gotten the hint that Ed wanted to be left alone. Ed broke down, sitting there alone on that squeaky swing; the only thing his father had ever done for them. With that thought, Ed felt the abandonment of his father, the pain of losing his mother, all at once. And Ed wept, the first time since his mother’s funeral.

Alchemy theories and transmutation circles were shoved aside for the raw emotions Ed rarely let himself feel these days. He tried to be rational, to be strong for Al, and be the domineering presence they both needed in order to solve alchemy’s greatest taboo. But Ed couldn’t help it; he was six years old and missed his mother.

He heard the letter crinkle in his tight grip as his shoulders shook, though the worst of the wave of emotions seemed to have settled.

He was thankful, so so thankful to have his mother’s words once more. It was like she was here again, and now that the letter was over, it was like pulling the scab from a poorly healing wound. He needed her words again, he needed to _hear_ her voice again, not just imagine the words she said. His mother may have thought she would never see her sons again as she wrote this, but she didn’t understand alchemy. Not the way Ed did. He would see her again, someday. Her letter had only refueled his resolved. He quickly folded the paper and placed it carefully in his pocket. Then he wiped the tears roughly from his face with his forearm and headed back inside.

After all, there was research to be done.


	2. Eleven

The letters became their tradition. Every year, another birthday, another letter. Edward would eagerly awake on that February morning, both awaiting and dreading the letter he knew he would find in their mailbox.

Ed had a lot of questions about the letters; who was sending them for his mother? How did they find their way to him with nothing more than his name and each year’s date? How many letters had his mother written in those few final weeks when she had been sick in bed, when the illness had stopped her from allowing much else besides something as simple as writing a few letters? More than the tumulus emotions Ed knew the letter would bring, he dreaded more the ideas of the letters abruptly stopping. Every year, he ran to the mailbox, terrified that he would find no letter, no more words form his mother. It would feel like she had died all over again.

Even so, Ed couldn’t help his quickening gait as he, Al and Winry reached the intersection where their paths diverged.

“So you’ll come over for dinner, right?” Winry asked. Her hair had grown a lot in the six months that the Elrics had spent in Dublith, and now it was tangled in the scarf around her neck to ward off the late winter chill. She tugged at it as it got caught in the strap of her school bag.

“Yeah!” Al piped up, easily catching up to his brother’s shorter strides.

“Granny said she was making stew for you, Ed.”

“Huh? Oh, awesome,” he answered, barely listening.

“Jeez, what’s up with you?” Winry said. “Are you even listening?”

They stopped on the other side of the bridge where Winry had to turn left. “I heard you. Stew. Dinner. We’ll be there.”

Winry rolled her eyes. “Alright, I’ll see you guys later.” She waved and started off.

“Wait up, brother!” Al called from several steps behind Ed; he hadn’t realized how hurried his pace had become.

Ed didn’t respond, but he slowed his walk. Al was the same way on his birthdays when the letters began to show up for him as well. It was something they never spoke about otherwise. The brothers told each other most everything, but the content of those letters was private, Al never asked after that first time, so neither had Ed.

Silently, he wondered if the letter affected Al the same way. If he too was as hurt by them as he was comforted, if they only redoubled his efforts to bring their mother back. It had been five years, their research was coming to an end, Ed knew the day of their mother’s resurrection would be happening soon, most likely by the end of the summer. This would probably be the last letter, he realized. But he kept those thoughts to himself as he opened the mailbox and pulled out the patiently waiting letter.

“You coming in?” Al asked, already standing at their stoop.

“In a minute,” Ed told him. With a nod, Al left his brother alone without another word.

Ed walked over and sat on the stone steps, tearing the envelope open. Over the years, the paper had begun to turn slightly more yellow and softened with each passing year. Just another gut-punching realization of how long it had been since Trisha Elric had been alive. Ed shook his head and began to read.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

_It has occurred to be as I began writing this that you have now spent more time without me than you ever had with me. You are growing so old, my little man. I can’t imagine you as an eleven year old, to be honest, it doesn’t seem possible that my little baby could ever grow so much. You were my firstborn, Edward, and that was so special to me. The first time I ever saw you, I knew how special you would be to me. And the years, they passed by so quickly, I watched in amazement how much you grew every day. I can’t help but imagine how much you have grown in the years that have passed as well. I wonder what you have gotten up to in the past few years, you certainly could never stay out of trouble for long. I’m sure you have advanced so much with your alchemy as well, you and Al knew more about it when you were toddlers than I even understand now!_

Ed smiled softly. Within the year, he would show his mother just how much he had learned about alchemy. She would see and experience that for herself. Ed swelled with pride just at the thought; he had put his heart and soul into this research, spent the better half of his life studying it. His mother would be amazed by what he could do. Ed couldn’t wait for her to be here to realize all the work he had done for _her_. She would give him that proud smile he hadn’t seen in years, and Ed couldn’t wait.

            _Wherever life has taken you so far, I know you are succeeding! You’ve always been so intelligent, my little man, and as you grow older, more opportunities are going to come your way. But you are still young, Edward, and I want you to remember there is no need to rush. I want you to play and be happy and have fun! This is the time to be carefree, sweetheart, and I hope you know that. Don’t spend all your time cooped up in the house, studying alchemy either! It’s good to get out, dear, there will be plenty of time to devote to your interests when you are grown._

_Take good care of your brother, but remember, that responsibility doesn’t fall entirely on your shoulders, and there will always be others to help you when you need it._

_Love forever and always,_

_Mom_

Ed sat back and looked up, feeling, as he always did after the letters, like he had just surfaced from a warm sleep back into cold reality. This time, he kept the tears and emotion at bay. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He wondered what his mother would say, knowing how much time he had in fact spent holed up in their father’s study, reading alchemy books that should have been way beyond his grasp. But then again, if his mother was here, Ed thought, there wouldn’t have been a need for so much research in the first place. He never would have been so devoted so much of his time to this, never would have even trained with Teacher. He supposed it didn’t really matter; the effort had already been put in and he and Al and their mother would be reaping the benefits soon enough.

Over the years, it had gotten a little easier to read the letters, easier to anticipate his mother’s words. Ed couldn’t tell if it was because he was coping better with his mother’s death, or if it was knowledge that with each passing year they were coming ever closer to getting her back.

Well, Ed supposed it didn’t matter either way. He folded the letter up and stood, heading inside.

Soon, he would see her again soon.


	3. Twelve

Ed woke up to the dull throbbing that had become his new norm. It was so commonplace for him now that he could nearly ignore the dull aches and twangs that came with long stretches between medical doses, which were coming few and farther in-between as Ed grew stronger. Still, the winter had been harder than he had expected. Double that with getting fitted with automail and beginning rehabilitation right at the beginning of the turn of the season, Ed could barely remember the past few months through the haze of pain killers.

He was thankful the worst of the winter weather was over, and he was growing stronger and steadier every day. He nearly mastered simple use of his automail limbs, though he still had a noticeable limp and frequently ripped book pages and cracked delicate glasses. Still, Ed was making exponential progress. So much so that his rehabilitation wasn’t his main focus anymore, and now he was preparing for the state alchemy exam, corresponding with Mustang, filling out applications, and doing whatever research he could get his hands on.

Ed’s head flopped to the side to see Alphonse wasn’t in his usual spot at Ed’s bedside. As Ed got better, Al spent less time hovering over his brother 24/7. Pinako or Winry must have recruited him in making breakfast or something, and let Ed sleep in for a rare occurrence. After all, it was his birthday.

Ed blinked, realizing it was his _birthday._

He had been so focused on everything else, his twelfth birthday had snuck up on him with little warning. He pushed himself into the sitting position, making sure to try to use his automail arm, when his eye caught on something uncommon sitting on the bedside table atop his most recently read alchemy book.

Ed felt his heart clench as he realized what it was. He had almost not expected to receive a letter this year; as if whatever unseen force delivering these letters would stop the moment he had caused his mother to die a second time.

He didn’t want to read it. He didn’t want to think about his mother. He had spent so long being so sure that he would see her again that the letters had been a source of hope. Now though, now Ed trembled at the thought of reading her letter, as if she somehow knew what he and Al had done to her, and he would get reprimanded, disowned, punished more than he and Al both already had been when the transmutation failed.

Still, Ed found his pale, shaky hand reaching out by its own volition, and taking the letter from the end table. He opened the envelope, careful not to allow his automail fingers to rip the delicate parchment.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

_As always, I hope this letter finds you well. Happy birthday, sweetheart._

Ed’s face crumpled even reading just the first lines. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do it. He placed the letter face down on his sheet and screwed his eyes shut against the onslaught of emotions.

So he hadn’t gotten better at coping with the loss of his mother; it was just the thought of seeing her again that kept Ed going. But now he knew she was gone for good. There was no human transmutation; and if there was, there was no sacrifice worth it. Nothing was worth what he had already lost, nothing worth what _Al_ had lost.

 Ed choked on a sob and pressed his automail fist to his lips to quiet the gasp that threatened to turn into full on sobbing.

He brought the paper back up to his face, determined to get through it; another small personally inflicted punishment. He had to read his mother’s words, and understand the disappointment she would feel against him.

But the tears kept flowing, unrelenting, and Ed cried harder than he had in a long time. These weren’t the involuntary tears of pain from automail surgery, they weren’t fearful tears that came almost nightly when nightmares of losing Al inevitably came. These were tears of grief and loss, ones he should have shed when he was five years old, but had pent up for years and years behind a dam constructed with alchemical solutions, determination, and focus.

The words inked on the page smudged like watercolor in Ed’s vision as the tears blinded him. He couldn’t read his mother’s kind words through his heavy sobs. Maybe he didn’t deserve to read them anyway.

Ed had betrayed her; killed her a second time and damned the little brother she entrusted Ed to protect. She would hate him now, she would be so disappointed in everything he had done, all the time and effort wasted just for it to all blow up in their faces.

He didn’t deserve his mother’s letters anymore, he didn’t deserve her kindness or her love.

Ed bit on his lip as it began to quiver, and he instinctively balled his fists, the letter getting crumpled mercilessly between metal fingers. He crumpled the paper further, knowing his mother wouldn’t want him to have it if she knew the sins he had committed in her name, and he threw it across the room, not even watching to see where it landed before he fell onto his pillows, and sobbed himself into a comfortless sleep.


	4. Thirteen

Ed schlepped through the door of the military barracks, drenched in the beginnings of a sudden downpour. Stupid Mustang, needing his stupid report. Stupid rogue alchemist on the outskirts of East City who caused Ed to have to write this report after Ed thoroughly beat his ass into the ground. His leather boots squeaked with each drenched step, leaving a line of soggy footprints all the way down the hall leading to the dorm the Elrics shared.

“Al,” Ed called as he shouldered into the brothers’ small room, “I’m back.”

He pulled off his coat, giving it a good wring before hanging it on the hook to dry.

“Brother! How was your meeting?” Al sat in his usual spot against the wall, book dwarfed in his hands as he settled it on his folded legs.

Ed rolled his eyes. “Mustang gave me an earful as usual, said transmuting a city street into a giant tidal wave was no way to catch a criminal. He didn’t even seem to care that we caught the guy, Al! Plus, he didn’t have any leads for us! I don’t know how, seeing as he doesn’t seem to ever do any other work!”

Al laughed. “Well, it was a bit unorthodox, Brother.”

“It worked, didn’t it? Plus, I put the street back in better shape than it was before! I told Mustang that when he started going on about liabilities and damage costs, blah blah blah.” Ed flopped back onto the bottom bunk of his bed. “I’m done thinking about it.” He sat up on his elbows to peer at his brother from between his feet. “Anything go on while I was at HQ?”

Alphonse shrugged, dogeared his page, and placed the book aside. “Nothing much. I was just reading this book I started yesterday. There are a few others I know I’ve seen at the library I think might want to cross-reference this one with. Oh, and I went down to the mailboxes, you got something.”

Ed heaved himself up. “It’s probably junk mail or something,” he muttered as he ambled over to the table Al pointed to.

He shook his head. “You know it’s not, Brother.”

Ed picked up the envelope and felt a stab of emotion race through his body. He honestly hadn’t expected on of his mother’s letters to arrive here, at the military dorms of all places.

He grimaced, remembering his reaction to last year’s letter. He could have attributed his violent reaction to the cocktail of drugs he was slowly being weaned off of, but Ed had all but had a breakdown after trying to get through the first two sentences of that letter.

Eventually, after the tears had dried enough that he could erase them from his face, he had ambled sorely across the room and retrieved the crumpled letter from where it sat in the corner of the room. He had felt bad; even if he didn’t deserve his mother’s kind words, those words hadn’t deserved to be mistreated just because Ed was a screw-up. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to read that letter until he had passed his state alchemist test. He had come back to Resembool to retrieve Al and pack the rest of his meager possessions. He had found it between the pages of an old alchemy book, pressed in the heavy tome to reduce the damage of the wrinkles. Ed had smoothed it out as best as he could but the damage had already been done. Still, he had finally been able to get through the letter without stopping, knowing now that he couldn’t bring his mother back, but he was finally on the path to making things right for Al.

Ed hadn’t heard his brother stand up—quite the feat for a seven foot suit of armor—until Al spoke. He must have seen the deep contemplation on Ed’s face because he quietly excused himself to the library, promising to be back in a little while.

Ed grunted in acknowledgement, his eyes never wandering from the letter. He was too distracted by the sudden torrent of emotions to realize how grateful he was that Al was so in tune with his brother’s emotions and needs.

Ed laid down across the bed as the door closed softly in the background. He tore open the letter with an almost sort of desperation, and began to read.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

_Happy birthday, little man._

Ed felt his chest loosen from a tightness he hadn’t realized was pressing down on him. He wasn’t sure what he had expected. What had he been so afraid of? His mother’s gentle, kind demeanor was still prevalent in her letters. She didn’t know what he had attempted, didn’t know he had become a military dog. In her eyes, Ed would always be untainted and innocent. Her letters would never speak the horrors he and Al had witnessed.

_Today you are officially a teenager. That’s quite the accomplishment, you are growing into quite the young man, I’m sure. I am so incredibly proud of you, remember that, sweetheart. Whatever you have done or wherever you go, know that I was, and always will be, so proud of you. I know as you grow older, you will make the right decisions, both for yourself and those around you._

He sat up, curling around the letter, feeling much like he did after receiving his mother’s first letter; sad and alone and like a small child. He bit his lip as he felt a sob trying to surface. He swallowed it back. No, he wouldn’t cry. Not until Al could as well. He let out a small gasp and wiped at his eyes again, thankful that his brother had kindly excused himself.

_You have always been such an intelligent, strong willed and caring person, I know these characteristics will only strengthen within you in time. Things may be tough right now Edward, I know being a young teenager comes with all its own tribulations, and many times adults try to minimize those pains. But being young, Ed, it’s harder than a lot of adults remember._

_Remember, you’re still just a boy, you’re my boy, and it’s okay to cry and be scared and need help sometimes. It’s okay to need other people and to ask questions or ask for help. Even though I am not here with you, I know there are so many others around who care about you and Al so much. Just know, whatever happens, you will always have a home in Resembool, and you will always have a caring support system of friends and family who will be willing to catch you when you fall. And there will be times, sweetheart. I know you’re a capable and strong young man, but everyone needs help sometimes, everyone has bad days, and everyone feels like giving up at times. It’s a part of life as much as it is a part of growing up and coming into your own._

_You’re moving into the twilight years of your youth, but you still have a ways to go, a lot to grow, and much to learn. We never really stop learning, Edward. I thought when I became an adult I would suddenly know everything and I would know how to do whatever I needed to. But that’s not true. As soon as you came into my life, Edward, I realized I didn’t know anything, I felt so young and confused again. I had no idea how to raise a child, neither did your father. We were so afraid of messing up, making a mistake, and ruining your life, that we forgot that life makes room for mistakes. Everyone makes them but they don’t define us._

_I like to think you and Al both turned out more than alright, so I suppose your father and I figured it out along the way. And you will too, sweetheart, no matter how big or small an issue or mistake may seem, there is always a way to fix it. And life will always continue to move on, and you will grow better from it, no matter what. Growing up and growing old and letting go are some of the hardest things a person has to do, Edward, but even though you are young, you are one of the strongest people I know. I have no doubt that you will get through whatever challenges life may throw your way. You have never been one to give up, sweetheart, I know that no matter what, that is something that will never change._

_Love forever and always,_

_Mom_

Ed jumped at the sudden dark splotch that appeared on the paper. He wiped quickly at his eyes, not realizing he was crying until he felt the wetness on his face. He smudged away the teardrop on the paper before it could do any more damage.

Ed sat back to look at the letter again, and in spite of the tears still trickling slowly down his face, Ed smiled. How did his mother always know what he needed to hear? Even years later, her words from the past were such a comfort even in the present. She had no idea what he and Al were going through, and yet, just reading her reassuring words was a slight balm to Ed’s constantly frayed nerves.  

He had made a mistake, much bigger than his mother ever could have anticipated. But she was right, he _would_ fix it. He had to, for Al’s sake.

He didn’t know how his mother could be proud of him now, after all he had done in the past year and a half. But he knew, he was heading on the right track for redeeming himself.

_I swear it, Mom_ , Ed thought as he folded up the letter as gently as he could manage. _I’m going to get Al’s body back, and you’ll be so proud of both of us again._


	5. Eighteen

Edward leaned back, making himself as comfortable as he could on the wooden bench in the train car. After all the years of travel, one thing that had never gotten more bearable was the hard train seats. Even now, Ed still struggled with how to relax on the hard wood without growing sore.

He propped his legs up on the bench facing him as his hands unconsciously drifted to relax in the pockets of his overcoat. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, feigning contentment in hopes that his mind could trick his body into being comfortable for the rest of the commute.

His hands relaxed further into his deep pockets, until his left hand hit something smooth and thin, and he pulled out a folded enveloped tucked down in the pocket.

Ed shouldn’t have been surprised, it had been an annual tradition for twelve years now; yet the letters had a magical way of appearing when he least expected, especially during the chaotic years he and Al spent trying to regain their bodies.

Ed carefully unfolded the envelope and read his name and the year written, as they faithfully always were, on the back of the envelope. It had been almost two years since Al had gotten his body back and they had returned home, and well over twelve since their mother’s death had occurred, becoming the catalyst to everything that had happened to the brothers since.

As a young child, Ed never would have guessed where his life would lead him and where he would be now, on the eve of his eighteenth birthday. He could hardly believe it himself, just how well things had turned out for him and Al. Especially not after all the close calls, moments of despair, and dead ends. They had come out on top and Edward would never forget the family and friends who had helped him and al get there.

Speaking of which, he glanced out the window, only to find his own reflection and a blank abyss of nighttime staring back at him. His train shouldn’t be more than an hour out from its destination; Central City.

Ed has been back once or twice since he had retired with Al to the countryside, and while he much preferred the quiet quaintness of Resembool, there was something about the hustle and bustle of the capitol city that had become comforting and familiar over the years. Of course, the people he was going there to meet certainly had something to do with it.

Not long after Ed had received his certification and began showing up at Mustang’s office to receive his missions, the rest of the team had taken quite an interest in their newest team member. Ed couldn’t blame them, looking back on it, he was a twelve year old scruffy kid who could take down a city block with a clap of his hands. Ed had avoided their chumminess as much as he could, he didn’t want anything to do with the military or its employees. And one day, during some small office party—Ed couldn’t even remember the military holiday it had been for—Havoc had tried to goad him into at least trying some of the alcohol they had on hand.

After Hawkeye had thoroughly admonished the second lieutenant, Havoc had relented, but made Ed promise that the team could take him out for a drink on his eighteenth birthday. Ed had agreed, partially just to humor the man, and also because he was convinced he would only be employed by the government for a couple months then he’d never have to see the military again or make good on that promise.

But, over the years, things had changed. Mustang’s team had become something of a surrogate family to him and Al. And Ed knew how important it was to keep a promise, especially to those who had helped and welcomed him so much over the years.

Speaking of which…

Ed blinked away his thoughts and focused on the letter in his hands, his mother’s familiar script staring back at him. He had made a promise to his mother all those years ago that he would make good on his promise to get Al’s body back. And he had done it. Ed didn’t believe in the afterlife, not in the slightest, but still took comfort in knowing that he had kept one last promise to his mother. At least it made reading her letters that much easier.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

_Happy birthday to my little man, who I am sure is not so little anymore. You’re not much of a boy anymore, Edward, you’re beginning the life of a young man. I can’t believe you are an adult now! It just doesn’t seem possible. Writing your previous letters, I thought couldn’t imagine you at age ten, twelve, but imagining you at eighteen is quite the thought! You’re officially an adult, I’m sure beginning to take on all those new responsibilities. I hope you aren’t too overwhelmed, sweetheart. It’s your eighteenth birthday, it’s a milestone, and I hope you do something special to celebrate, you deserve it._

_I smile as I write this, imagining all the possibilities of where you are in your life right now. You know, I was your age when you came into this world and into my life, and changed it all forever. I have been blessed to know you these last few years, and I wonder now, do you understand the deep and unconditional love a parent has for their child? Do you have a child of your own? Have you already gotten married, and if so, to whom? I see the way you blush when little Winry is around, and sometimes you shove her or argue with her, and I know you may be embarrassed that you have a bit of a crush on her, but I hope by now you have learned that that is certainly not the way to treat the girl you love. I’m sure you know that, but it is always good to have a mother’s advice. If there is a girl in your life, tell her you love her, don’t beat around the bush, and if you have feelings for her, tell her! She won’t wait around forever, sweetheart._

_Oh, perhaps I am jumping the gun a bit here. Who knows where life has taken you? You have so much potential. Have you traveled? The amount of possibilities at your fingertips are unlimited, I can’t help but get overwhelmed, thinking of them all. Perhaps you have gone to college in Central City. You know, Central was one place I never got to see. I was born and raised in Resembool, and never travelled too far from home. Perhaps you have taken after your father and are planning to travel all over the country! Or perhaps you have taken after me, and decided to stay in Resembool, heading a shop in town or tending to one of the fields, or perhaps helping Pinako with her business, as I’m sure Winry is doing as well._

_Well, wherever this crazy life may have taken you, I hope you are happy, sweetheart. I hope you know that is always the most important thing in life. Be happy and surround yourself with those you love. Happy birthday, my little man._

_Love forever and always,_

_Mom_

Edward sat back, and looked out the window to see the faint glow of Central City reflecting off the overcast clouds. Central City for a time had been a home away from home. Even though he had spent less and less time there after the Promised Day, he still knew the city as well as anyone could be familiarized with those twisting city blocks. It wasn’t Resembool, but in a way, it was still like home. And that was because of the people he had met there, who made it feel so.

Havoc had been healed and reinstated, Breda would be there, as loyal as ever, Falman had relocated to the north, but Fuery would still be there to celebrate as well. Maybe they could even get grouchy old General Mustang to join; after a drink or two and some banter, the old general might actually be tolerable.

Ed smiled down at the letter held loosely in his hands and smiled. He thought about how nice it would be to see Mustang’s team again, the men who had acted as older brothers to him and Al through their journey.

It had been hard, but the brothers had found their own family over the years. The Hughes family, Mustang and Hawkeye, the rest of the team and even more of the soldiers, and the Curtises and Rockbells, of course.

And Winry. Ed didn’t want to put her in the same category because he didn’t exactly know how to define their relationship. Over the past two years they had grown incredibly close, despite Al’s good-natured but annoying teasing and the few times Pinako had almost walked in on them while Winry gave Ed “maintenance checks” and offhandedly reprimanded Winry for being unprofessional. Ed knew he would have to define it soon, and he was ready to take an even bigger step. He would be leaving for the west in a few months and he needed to know Winry would still be there when he got back. He couldn’t expect here to wait around if he didn’t give her a reason to.

Ed wondered what his mom would think of all this as he looked down at her letter. Falling in love with the girl next door, would she have ever seriously guessed that? Ed figured she probably would have; she had that sort of intuition. Then again, it took him much longer to realize it than he should have anyway.

Nevertheless, the past two years, Ed had been looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time. Al had his body back and was finally back to normal health, making plans to head to Xing soon. Ed would be on his way to the west as well. And between them, more family and friends than either brother could count.

Ed leaned back and watched the city draw nearer. He always wondered if his mother would resent him for all he had done; first to disgrace her after death, then to so carelessly lose Al’s body after promising to protect him. But after all the turmoil, all they had gone through, they had made it to the other side, happier and stronger and surrounded by more friends than they ever could have imagined, and Ed knew, well he hoped, that after all was now said and done, his mother, or her spirit, or whatever part of her that might somehow impossibly still exist, was happy for him and all they had accomplished. She had been right after all; he and Al had never truly been alone.


	6. Thirty

An all-enveloping warmth welcomed Edward as the last vestiges of a dream dissipated back into reality. A pleasant dream leading into a pleasant reality. For such a long time, Ed never thought either would be possible to him, that he would ever get pleasant moments of respite, or that he would even deserve them.

The house was warm for it being a February morning, warm enough that Ed didn’t dread the idea of leaving the oasis of blankets that had kept in his body heat. The sun streaked in through the slit of the thin curtains, golden hues of peach and pink welcoming the late winter morning.

Ed breathed in a long, awakening breath, face still halfway in the pillow, but perked up a bit as his nose registered the smell of cinnamon. Cinnamon and sugar and syrup and about a dozen other comforting smells that reminded him he was home.

The soft, lazy patter of feet walking down the hall caused Ed to turn over. In the doorway, his wife stood, greeting him with that familiar sunshine smile. Her fine hair tied back from the day before and spilling out, falling over the shoulders of the pink silk nightgown she still wore, Ed lied there as Winry’s eyes met his.

Seeing him awake, she walked over and crawled onto the bed beside him. “Morning,” she murmured with a languid kiss on his lips.

“Hey,” he replied, voice still drowsy. “Do I smell pancakes?”

She pushed his bangs out of his eyes and pressed her forehead to his with a humored scoff. “Awake for two minutes and you’re already hungry? I thought your appetite would stop being a bottomless pit when Al got his body back.”

Ed grinned back mischievously. “Come on, Win, you should know by now that’s not gonna happen. Besides, your baking the best, I can’t help it.”

She preened at the compliment and sat up. “Sara is helping. James and I went to the market yesterday and got all the ingredients after we picked up the supplies for our next order. We also got stuff for stew and pie later if you want.”

Ed’s grin widened. “Have I ever told you you’re the best damn wife ever?” He sat up and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Winry rolled her eyes. “Geez, you’re so easy to please.” She smiled softly at him. “Happy birthday by the way.”

Ed groaned and flopped back down.

“What’s the matter?”

“I forgot it was my birthday. Winry...I’m _old.”_

Winry laughed; there was no malice in it, but Ed still felt indignant. “Ed, you’re turning thirty. That barely constitutes as old. Do you know what Granny would say if she heard you talking like that?”

“She’d probably tell me I don’t know what old is because I’m still the height of a five year old. Which I’m _not!”_ He threw his hands over his face. “Still, I feel old. Winry, do you realize that means we’ve been married for nearly _ten years?”_

“I know, Edward, I was there. We have five kids too or had you forgotten?”

Ed pulled his hands away from his face to give her a petulant look. “No, of course I haven’t forgotten.”

“Well, I couldn’t tell, considering you’re moping like a teenager.”

Ed rolled his eyes and slumped down further into the pillows. Damn. Thirty years. It didn’t seem that long. It felt like he had just been a snotty know-it-all teenager ragging on a Mustang for being the same age he was now.

Winry gave him a sympathetic look and leaned in to kiss his pout. “If it makes you feel any better, I still love you, even with your gray hairs.”

She pulled away as Ed abruptly shot up. “I don’t have gray hair! Winry, what the h—”

“Here.” She slapped something on his chest, and when she pulled her hand away, Ed could see a yellowed envelope sitting against the white of his night shirt.

He looked up at Winry to see a knowing smiling on her face and something sad in her eyes. It had occurred to Ed not long after receiving his first letter that his mother must have given them all to Pinako to send each year. The Rockbells were the only ones whoo had a general idea where he and Al were each year, especially considering how many letters had shown up without addresses while they were in Resembool, and how the ones at the military dorms had his specific mailing information.

Since the old hag had died, the tradition must have fallen to Winry. Ed didn’t know how much about the letters Pinako must have explained to Winry, but it was obvious enough Winry knew who the author was. Whether she was thinking about Trisha, or about her own parents’ deaths, Ed didn’t know.

Suddenly he felt bad Winry had never had the sort of closure he and Al got. They had had to say goodbye to their mother, and no matter how painful it had been, at least they had gotten one. And they had their letters to keep her voice and words alive for decades after. Winry didn’t have that, and even after all these years, Ed knew it still hurt her. Some wounds never fully healed.

Winry blinked the sad look away and climbed out of bed, smiling down at him as if the somber moment had never occurred. “Well, I’ve got to go make sure Sara doesn’t burn those pancakes. Come down when you’re ready, ‘kay?”

Ed watched his wife disappear down the hall, in awe that she could still leave him feeling like he was still an awkward fifteen year old after so many years. They had been through a lot since they had been awkward teenagers fumbling with newfound emotions. Traveling, Ed to the west, Winry to Rush Valley. A wedding that had practically been an international incident, when the Xingese emperor had decided to attend. Winry taking over the Rockbell Automail business, and Ed acting as her occasional assistant. The tireless research with Al, the visits to Xing, the small army of kids he and Winry had somehow found themselves with. It had been a lot for his thirty years, but seeing where he had ended up, Ed wouldn’t change any of it.

He looked down at the envelope sitting innocuously where Winry had left it. Ed felt his chest constrict. Thirty years. The time Ed had spent without his mother greatly surpassed the time he ever got with her, and he was years older now than she had ever gotten to be.

Ed blinked back the sudden moisture in his eyes. Guess it was true some wounds never fully healed. Without giving his mind another moment to sulk, Ed ripped the delicate edge of the envelope open and pulled the letter from its sleeve.

_My Dearest Darling Edward,_

Even after all these years, his mother’s writing remained the same, a relic of a different present, where she was still alive, and would always stay that way in the moment she had captured in her words.

_I yearn to know the kind of man you have now grown to become. As I write this, I can see you and Alphonse playing outside, your laughter gives me strength that is so hard to come by these days, but not so much when I think of you boys. I’m sorry, Edward, but I don’t think I will have this strength much longer. And I regret that I will not know you when you and Alphonse have grown into the kind, distinguished, intelligent young men I know you will both become._

_It is odd to think about, if I am being honest. I know as you read this you are turning thirty, yet I cannot reconcile the image of you grown up with the young, carefree boy I can see now chasing his little brother around the yard. I know our world is far from perfect, but I know it will do a fine job raising you into a wonderful young man. It is my biggest regret that I will not be there to help you and Alphonse realize this._

_I hope the years are kind to you, Edward, you sweet, beautiful boy, I hope you learn all you wish about your alchemy and travel the world. So long as you remember to come home every now and then. Resembool will miss you otherwise._

_And if you have a family, Edward, be sure to take them with you wherever you may go. I don’t know what may have happened with your father 25 years from now, but I wish he was here with us now, so you and Al will never have to feel that you are alone. I only hope whatever feelings of resentment you have for him have not turned you bitter. I hope he kept his promises and returned to you boys, as I know he wanted. If not, I know the Rockbells will have taken good care of you in our stead._

_I’m afraid this may be my last letter, Edward. Even now it’s getting more difficult to hold this pen and force my hand to write something legible._

_I will miss you, my little man, but I hope that if you miss me, it doesn’t leave you stung and hurt and feeling the world is unfair. I hope by now that you are happy, as I always want you to be, and that you have properly grieved and moved on with the wonderful life you deserve to have._

_But, Edward, darling, I know there will be hard times, and I’m sure there already have been, but if you find, even all these decades later, that you miss your old mother, remember that I am always with you and Alphonse, remember I am with you in the wind that blows through the fields and shakes the clothes lines, I’m with you in the first blooms of springtime after a long winter. But most importantly, I am with you Edward, in your strong heart and your passion, and I am in your brother’s kindness and patience._

_I love you, my little man, forever and always,_

_Mom_

Ed sank further back into the pillows, the letter lying face down, pressed against his chest. He heaved a deep sigh, feeling as if he had stepped out of long dream, as he always did after reading one of his mother’s letters.

By now he could hear the sounds of his family moving around in the kitchen downstairs. Once they were all together, things were never quiet nor were they ever calm. Ed smiled; he wouldn’t be happier any other way.

He got up and stretched, deciding to go for a walk before the pancake breakfast his family had so graciously put together in celebration of him. The cemetery wasn’t too far, and he could pick up some flowers on the way. And after that, he would come back home, to his family, where the rest of his life was waiting for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's all she wrote!   
> I've had this idea in my head for a few months now so I'm glad I finally got around to writing the whole thing down. It was a lot more daunting to write than I thought it would be. I am the farthest thing from a mother, and writing this fic made me realize I am the least motherly person to ever exist. Nevertheless! Hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading this far! See y'all next time!


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